"Will you tell me this—was it about a gentleman?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Brenton.
"Was your husband of a jealous disposition?"
"Ordinarily I do not think he was. It seemed to me at the time that he was a little unjust—that's all."
"Was the gentleman in Lucerne?"
"Oh no!"
"In Cincinnati?"
"Yes."
"Was his name Stephen Roland?"
Mrs. Brenton again glanced quickly at the newspaper man, and seemed about to say something, but, checking herself, she simply answered—